Jo-Ann Roberts

Cowboys & Mistletoe (Week 2) – Jo-Ann Roberts

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Welcome, friends, to Week Two of our Cowboys and Mistletoe celebration!

In addition to writing sweet historical romance, my second love is quilting. For more than twenty years, a group of 8-10 friends has gotten together for Quilt Week. It’s a 10-day retreat in the Pennsylvania Amish Country. We rent a house, sharing the cost. From 9 am to 9 pm, we quilt, eat, get ice cream, shop for fabric, go out to eat, quilt…you get the picture. When we started, we came up with the idea of a Quilting Challenge. At the end of Quilt Week, we pick a new pattern or a line of fabric and come up with a quilt. The following year, we show off our creations. We have donated these quilts to shelters, veterans’ groups, and hospitals.

So, when author Zina Abbott asked me if I’d be interested in taking part in the Christmas Quilt Bride series, I gave a very enthusiastic “YES!” I already had the quilting background, so the stories came together quickly. I am so very pleased my fellow Fillies have graciously and enthusiastically accepted my offer to create this quilt for the Grand Prize.

Christmas Brides of Harmony by Jo-Ann Roberts

It’s nearing Christmas in Harmony, Kansas and the Circle of Friends Quilting group is planning the Annual Christmas Quilt Giveaway. Here, the quilts are stitched with love and where the quilter weaves dreams into reality, one thread at a time.

Noelle
A widow reluctant to love again…
A deputy determined to win her heart…
With Christmas looming, will the growing attraction between Noelle and the deputy reveal the gift of a second chance? Or could a stranger from the deputy’s past threaten the man who captured her heart?

Hope
He was the most stubborn and prideful man she’d ever met.
She was a busybody who stuck her nose in his business at every turn!
As Christmas approaches, will they look beyond each other’s faults and see a future blossom from a special, once-in-a-lifetime friendship?

Ivy
He was the town bully.
She was his target.
Had anything changed?
Was Ivy Sutton willing and able to forgive the boy who made her childhood unbearable?
Can Grady Walsh make up for the reckless actions of his youth?
Or will another steal her away before they have a chance to discover a kind of love that might heal the pain from the past?

 BUY LINK

The Great Western Christmas Celebration

Let’s start with the basics – what time period are we going to set our story in?

Will it be Modern Day? Gold Rush? Civil War? Vietnam Era? A specific decade or year? Or even some time in the future? Chime in and tell us when this Christmas celebration should take place. We’ll reveal the year/period selected tomorrow.

Everyone who leaves a response by Saturday 12/13 will get their name entered in the random drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card.

All entries will also be eligible for our oh-so-beautiful Grand Prize – a gorgeous quilt hand made by our very own Jo-Ann Roberts

 

NOTE: ALL winners will be announced on Sunday 12/14.

Welcome to Day 3 of Cowboys & Mistletoe (Week 1)

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Here are the Charms and clues for today, presented in no particular order:

I chose a piano to represent my story because it wasn’t until I gave a child in my household her first piano lessons that I found my true calling in life.

 

 

I chose a fish to represent my story because one day my entire life changed during a chance encounter while fishing in Twisty Creek.

 

When you’re ready to guess, you can log your responses AT THIS LINK.

DO NOT respond in the comments – your entry will only count when logged at the link noted.

 

POST 1 OF 2 FOR WEDNESDAY
CHRISTMAS STOCKING SWEETHEARTS Book 4
Jo-Ann Roberts’ Holly In His Heart

 

Will a dose of Mother Nature’s magic and a bit of divine intervention make a little boy’s Christmas wish come true?

 

What is a boy to do when he is trying to play matchmaker for his father? Seven-year-old Danny Stone is working hard to help his lonely widower father find love again. When a pretty, new teacher moves to Angel Falls, Danny believes she is the perfect choice. But his matchmaking attempts have not been successful until a snowstorm hits and strands Miss Holly at their farm.

Fleeing an ill-fated relationship, Holly Ross accepts an interim teaching position in Angel Falls, Kansas. During the first week, she is knocked down by a stranger, and his rude behavior raises her annoyance when he insists he saved her life…not that she believed she needed saving. When she discovers Jesse Stone is the father of one of her students, she vows to give the man a wide berth. But when Danny leaves behind a scarf belonging to his late mother, she makes a decision that will alter her Christmas plans…and her life.

Since his wife’s passing, Jesse Stone has no interest nor the time for romance. With a herd, a ranch, and a seven-year-old son to raise, the last thing he needs is ungrateful criticism from a woman he saved from being hit by a wagon. His irritation grows when he discovers Holly Ross is the new teacher his son keeps praising…and the feeling is mutual. So, she is the last person he expects to see at his door at the start of a blizzard.
And here’s your “What’s In Your Christmas Stocking” question for this morning.
“Your stocking contains a Christmas song lyric scribbled on a napkin. What’s the line and the title of the carol?”
You could win a $10 Amazon gift card or our Grand Prize quilt!
ALL PRIZE WINNERS WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14th

A Journey Through History and Charm

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There’s something timeless about a covered bridge. These historic wooden structures are scattered across the American landscape, each one a reminder of a simpler era when horse-drawn wagons and early automobiles rumbled over creaky floorboards, protected from the weather by the bridge’s iconic roof and walls.

Three weeks ago, after a nasty fall with a glass in my hand, I found myself unable to do much of anything around the house. After my husband handed me a drink (in a plastic cup, no less!) and insisted I sit down, I scanned the movies on YouTube. Much to my delight, I found two favorites, “Friendly Persuasion” and “The Bridges of Madison County.”

   

It wasn’t until the next day that I realized both featured covered bridges and it ignited a quest to find out more about this iconic structure.

Simply having a roof doesn’t necessarily make a structure a true covered bridge, though. Underneath every authentic covered bridge is its truss system, a network of beams, often in the shape of triangles, that distributes the weight of the bridge and the load it carries on its deck. The trusses, though rugged in appearance, require precision, and building one often took a whole village — quite literally.  Dozens, if not hundreds, of skilled workers from the community were involved: sawyers to prepare the rough-cut logs, timber framers to properly place the beams, and stonemasons to build the abutments, to name a few. Throughout the 19th century, covered bridges popped up wherever rivers and streams needed crossing — especially in the Northeast and Midwest. Each bridge showcased the craftsmanship of local builders and engineers, many of whom developed their own unique truss designs, like the Burr Arch or the Town Lattice.

Covered bridges first appeared in the United States in the early 1800s. The very first was built in 1805 over the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Known as the “Permanent Bridge”, it was designed by Timothy Palmer and set the stage for thousands more to come.

But why cover a bridge? The simple answer is durability. Wooden bridges exposed to rain, snow, and sun would quickly deteriorate. By adding a roof and siding, builders could protect the timber trusses, extending a bridge’s life from just 10-15 years to more than 70 or even 100 years.

Building a bridge was a major undertaking that required careful planning and a substantial community investment of time, labor, and materials. In the days before weatherproofed lumber, walls and a roof could extend a valuable bridge’s lifespan by shielding the truss system and keeping structural timbers dry.

With the increasing importance of locomotive transportation in the 19th century, iron was adopted for covered bridges to carry the heavy loadings of the railroad. At first metal was used for only part of the truss, in either vertical or diagonal members, and later for the whole truss. Cast iron and wrought iron were soon replaced by steel, and a principal form of the modern railroad bridge rapidly evolved.

At their peak in the 1800s, the United States had an estimated 12,000 covered bridges. Today, that number has dwindled to around 700-1,000, thanks to modernization, floods, fires, and neglect. But these survivors are now fiercely protected by local historical societies, states, and bridge enthusiasts.

Fun fact: Pennsylvania still holds the record for the most covered bridges in the country, with over 200 remaining!

In spite of their pure functionality, people came up with their own interpretations for covered bridges. Common beliefs emerged that a roof strengthened a bridge or protected the floor planks from rain and snow. Many came to think that covered bridges were built to shelter the people and animals traversing them, and some claimed the barn-like appearance calmed uneasy animals crossing over rushing water. Storytellers showcased covered bridges in tales ranging from the romantic to the mythical. These misunderstandings and cultural references encouraged the association of covered bridges with a “simpler time.”

They also served as gathering places and even inspired local lore — such as the tradition of couples sharing a covert kiss under the roof, inspiring the name “kissing bridges.”  It’s an old tradition from the horse-and-buggy days, when a boy would stop halfway across a covered bridge where it was quiet to give his girl a kiss.

 

 

While covered bridges once dotted nearly every state, today you’ll find the highest numbers mostly in the Northeast and Midwest — plus a few surprising spots out West.

Pennsylvania: ~210                            Vermont: ~100+
Ohio: ~125+                                            Indiana: ~90+
New Hampshire: ~50+                     Oregon: ~50+
New York: ~30+                                   Iowa: ~20+
Virginia: ~7                                           California: ~10
Georgia: ~15                                         West Virginia – 17

Covered bridges, like a piece of living history, connect us to a time when engineering was practical, beautiful, and built by hand. They’re reminders of our rural heritage and the communities that rallied to preserve them.

Roseman Bridge in Winterset, Iowa

So, the next time you spot a covered bridge sign on your travels, make a detour. Walk through it, snap a photo, and imagine the echo of horses’ hooves or wagon wheels rolling through the past.

 

An Upcoming Release…Just in Time for Christmas!

This anthology contains three standalone, yet inter-connected, books based in Harmony, Kansas. It’s nearing Christmas and the Circle of Friends Quilting group is planning the Annual Christmas Quilt Giveaway. Here, the quilts are stitched with love and where the quilter weaves dreams into reality, one thread at a time.

Noelle
A widow reluctant to love again…
A deputy determined to win her heart…
With Christmas looming, will the growing attraction between Noelle and the deputy reveal the gift of a second chance? Or could a stranger from the deputy’s past threaten the man who captured her heart?

Hope
He was the most stubborn and prideful man she’d ever met.
She was a busybody who stuck her nose in his business at every turn!
As Christmas approaches, will they look beyond each other’s faults and see a future blossom from a special, once-in-a-lifetime friendship?

Ivy
He was the town bully.
She was his target.
Had anything changed?
Was Ivy Sutton willing and able to forgive the boy who made her childhood unbearable?
Can Grady Walsh make up for the reckless actions of his youth?
Or will another steal her away before they have a chance to discover a kind of love that might heal the pain from the past?

 

Pre-Order Link

A Leaf Peeper’s Paradise

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Happy October, friends!

Though I no longer live in New England, I become nostalgic as summer turns to autumn, watching the leaves turn gold, russet, and red, the scent of chimney smoke, the starkness of the quarter moon, and the brilliance of the stars in the clear, dark skies.

And, I suppose this is what those visitors (leaf peepers!) experience when they flock to the highways and back roads of New England.

Growing up in the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts, I didn’t think much about the leaf-peepers coming into the city. I lived here, went to school, church, and played with friends. The changing leaves was nothing new. Yet, leaf-peeping was BIG business for the merchants, and continues to this day. (The photo on left is similar to the view from my former bedroom window.)

   

In Japan, leaf-peeping is known as momiji-gari, often translated as “hunting red leaves.” In Finland, ruska describes the colorful leaves themselves.

While the United States boasts breathtaking displays everywhere from Texas to Minnesota, it’s hard to deny that the Northeast is queen of the season—a position the region has held for at least a century and a half. Lifelong Massachusetts resident Henry David Thoreau once called October “the month of painted leaves.”

Emily Dickinson, another 19th-century Massachusetts poet, also distinguished the maple in the last stanza of her poem “Autumn”:

“The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.”

In October 1863, a New York correspondent for New Orleans’s Times-Picayune wrote that “When American poets first began to talk about the ‘gorgeousness’ of October” in the Northeast, “they were heartily laughed at abroad and at the South, and their enthusiasm was looked upon as extravagant.” But “that was years ago,” the writer said, and travelers had since realized that the area’s annual “color show” truly was spectacular.

As the century progressed, that color show became a selling point for autumnal excursions. An 1877 advertisement for a resort in the Catskills (just over the state lines of Massachusetts, Connecticut and Vermont), highlighted “magnificent mountains, beautiful fall foliage and fine partridge shooting.” A September 1884 briefing in Connecticut’s Hartford Courant mentioned the popularity of taking the 8:40 a.m. train from Hartford to the Hudson River, having lunch, and coming right home.

Though the bulk of this activity was centered in the Northeast, the Wes and Midwest weren’t oblivious to their own botanical marvels. The Cincinnati Enquirer encouraged people on one October Sunday in 1887 to visit the city’s zoo, “now radiant in all the glory of fall foliage,” and in September 1906, Washington’s Spokane Chronicle included a notice about a $2 round-trip steamer ride down the Saint Joe River, with its “superb fall tinted foliage and perfect river reflections.”

Tourism likewise ramped up in Vermont at this time, largely to natural spas, with fall foliage providing an added attraction. By the 1930s and 1940s, New England’s fall tourism industry was reportedly in full swing, with a Vermont newspaper describing the six-state region as a “mecca” for those seeking colorful foliage. Then, in the mid-1960s, the Bennington Banner, another Vermont newspaper, published the first-known reference to “leaf peepers,” an apparent spinoff of “leaf peekers” that has remained in the popular lexicon ever since.

Though New England is the sweet spot for viewing the golds, reds, and burgundy leaves, vivid foliage displays can be seen across much of the United States, from lemon-colored aspens in the Rocky Mountains to cinnamon-brown bald cypresses in the Southeast.

 So, the next time you find yourself gazing at a particularly stunning maple or aspen leaf, take a moment to appreciate not just the leaves, but the fact that you’re participating in a long-standing tradition. You’re not just a casual observer; you’re a leaf peeper, part of a proud, slightly quirky lineage that stretches back centuries.

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For a chance to win an e-book edition of “Caroline’s Challenge”, tell us if you have ever gone “leaf peeping” near your home or taken a trip to witness the annual spectacle of leaves changing colors.

There’s always one risk in life worth taking.

Caroline Stoddard clung to Sister Benedict’s words like a lifeline as the train took her across the country from Boston to Pine Ridge, Colorado. After learning the orphanage was closing and she’d be without a roof over her head and a teaching position, she couldn’t have been more surprised when the Prioress referred her to Millie Crenshaw, owner of the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency.

But life had another surprise in store for Caroline when she stepped off the train in Pine Ridge, Colorado. Instead of the new start she expected with James Murdock, her intended groom, he is nowhere to be found. With only a few coins to her name and no reason to return to Boston, she’s determined to make the best of it in this rugged land.

As the deputy sheriff in Pine Ridge, Knox Manning is haunted by a robbery gone wrong, making him question his ability to protect the town, and a stranded woman at the train depot with nowhere to go is the last thing he needs. But walking away isn’t in his nature. The badge he wears is both an anchor and a burden, one that caused him to sacrifice the one thing he always wanted—a chance for a home and a family.

Just as they begin to see each other in ways neither expected, and Knox dares to dream about a future with Caroline, the town of Pine Ridge is threatened by the same outlaws he’d been tracking for two years.

When Caroline is abducted, Knox realizes the gang had given him something worth fighting for—worth dying for, if necessary.

But more importantly, worth living for.

CLICK HERE

 

The Forgotten Epidemic

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We recently purchased a new television and, at the urging of our children, moved into the 21st century (25 years late!), dropped cable and picked up Netflix, YouTube, and Amazon Prime.

Admittedly, I’ve become addicted to reruns of “Downton Abbey”. Recently, I watched the episode where Cora contracted the Spanish Flu, which renewed my interest in the 1918 epidemic, mainly because it plays an indirect link to my ancestry.

And because I’m thinking about writing a romance based on my then-widowed grandmother, Olivetta DeJulio, who lost her first husband to the epidemic, then married my grandfather, Luigi D’Ambrosi.

But first, here’s a bit about America before the 1918 epidemic. The United States was involved in a world war, but despite that, people had more leisure time than any previous generation. They flocked to dance halls, pool halls, movies, and roller-skating rinks. Fans were obsessed with Hollywood celebrities and went to the movies regularly.

Though phone companies were working hard to expand their limited lines, the use of telephones up to 1918 was expensive. People traveling by rail tripled from 1896 to 1918. Only a Few Americans could afford cars. But Henry Ford, with his innovations, was about to change everything. So, the only way people could get news was from the newspapers. Every small town had at least one newspaper. Breaking news that needed to get out was done by printing another newspaper. These papers were called ‘extra’…now you know how the phrase, “Extra, extra, read all about it!” came about.

However, I digress…back to the epidemic of 1918.

There were two waves of the flu in the spring and fall. Though called the Spanish flu, it didn’t originate in Spain. They really don’t know for sure where it originated. Three suggestions are East Asia, Europe, or even Kansas. Why Kansas? It was March 9, 1918, at Fort Riley, Kansas, where 26,000 troops were stationed. They had several thousand horses and mules that deposited large amounts of manure. The problem arose of disposing of it. They decided burning it would be a good idea. March 9th brought a harsh dust storm, the combination of sand, dust, and manure ash stung the skin and offended the nose. The storm was so bad that it nearly blocked out the sun. Two days later, on March 11th, 100 men reported to the infirmary, all complaining of the same ailments of a bad cold. Whether or not this was the point of origin of the 1918 influenza that took over 600,000 American lives, we will probably never know. The epidemic spread not only within the U.S. but the abroad as well. By November 1918, the whole world was affected by the growing pandemic.

So, who died in this epidemic? You might think the young and old. If you guessed that, you’d be wrong. The 1918 pandemic disproportionately killed the healthy young adults. The reason wasn’t known why then, but through research, experts have discovered the virus killed through an overreaction of its immune system. The stronger the immune system, the stronger the reaction. Therefore, the young adults were far more susceptible, whereas a child or middle-aged adult had a milder reaction. Tragically, death came quickly. Victims had such a violent immune response that there are stories where people died within hours of showing symptoms of the flu. Their lungs would fill with fluids, and they would suffocate. The medical professionals of the time were helpless to stop the toll that the influenza took on young adults.

World War I added to the complications of the 1918 flu. Many doctors and nurses were overseas helping save our soldiers from sickness and wounds, leaving the United States short on clinicians. Struggling to keep up with the growing need, retired doctors were requested back to work, and medical students were summoned from their studies to help aid the sick.

Hospitals were so overwhelmed and overloaded with the sick that schools, buildings, church parish houses, armories, and even private homes were used as makeshift hospitals.

In attempts to slow the virus, schools, theaters, and churches were ordered closed in many cities. Some communities imposed quarantines as well as demanded that people wear masks.

Morgues were overloaded, caskets were in short supply, and secondary diseases were cropping up due to the lack of disposal of bodies quickly. Cities everywhere were running into the same problems. Casket companies were told they couldn’t make ornate coffins—they all had to be plain. In some places, public funerals were banned. All coffins had to remain closed unless they were identifying a body, and then they had to cover their mouth and noses.

With entertainment big business and all those people getting together, it became a huge concern for public health experts. At the height of the epidemic, government officials rushed in and closed many entertainment venues, fearing the spread of the virus. Since rail systems were so popular, it became an easy channel for the spread of the influenza virus. During the epidemic, cities became concerned about how easily the virus spread, causing some cities to limit and even close their transportation systems. Many cities that remained open had people wearing masks to reduce the risk of infection.

Onto a personal note…as I mentioned earlier, my maternal grandmother lost her husband to the Spanish flu. In 1919, she found herself a widow with four children. She nearly lost her oldest son, my Uncle Phil, too. Thinking he had succumbed, she called the coroner. Once he arrived, he noticed a twitching in his limbs. I’m happy to say he went on to live a long life as a tugboat operator on the Hudson River.

As the epidemic claimed more lives, family dynamics changed, leaving orphans, widows, and widowers.

 

One day, two women approached my grandmother asking to adopt my Aunt Jean and Aunt Mary. They surmised (wrongly so, in my grandmother’s opinion) that she would be better off with fewer children to raise. She sent them on their way, married her sister’s brother-in-law, and ultimately had five more children.

The 1918-1919 pandemic led to improvements in health education, isolation, and sanitation. It improved our understanding of influenza transmission, which is still implemented today to stop the spread of a disease that carries a heavy burden.

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On a much, much brighter note, I have a new book releasing September 20th!!

Pre-Order Link

Caroline Stoddard clung to Sister Benedict’s words like a lifeline as the train took her across the country from Boston to Pine Ridge, Colorado. After learning the orphanage was closing and she’d be without a roof over her head and a teaching position, she couldn’t have been more surprised when the Prioress referred her to Millie Crenshaw, owner of the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency.

But life had another surprise in store for Caroline when she stepped off the train in Pine Ridge, Colorado. Instead of the new start she expected with James Murdock, her intended groom, he is nowhere to be found. With only a few coins to her name and no reason to return to Boston, she’s determined to make the best of it in this rugged land.

As the deputy sheriff in Pine Ridge, Knox Manning is haunted by a robbery gone wrong, making him question his ability to protect the town, and a stranded woman at the train depot with nowhere to go is the last thing he needs. But walking away isn’t in his nature. The badge he wears is both an anchor and a burden, one that caused him to sacrifice the one thing he always wanted—a chance for a home and a family.

Just as they begin to see each other in ways neither expected, and Knox dares to dream about a future with Caroline, the town of Pine Ridge is threatened by the same outlaws he’d been tracking for two years.

When Caroline is abducted, Knox realizes the gang had given him something worth fighting for—worth dying for, if necessary.

To stay up on our latest releases and have some fun, too, join our Facebook Reader Group HERE!

 

 

 

A Short Story of Victorian Mourning Cookies

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“Imagine a knock at the door, and when you answer, the caller hands you a package. It contains a package. It contains a wrapped packet of biscuits tied with a black ribbon. Instantly, you know there’s been a death, and this is your invitation to the funeral.”

While searching for cookies popular in the mid-to-late 19th century, for my September release, Caroline’s Challenge (Westward Home and Hearts), a link to funeral cookies popped up. Having never heard of this concept, my interest was piqued for two reasons. First, the topic sounded so unusual that I wondered if any readers of Petticoats & Pistols might have knowledge of it, and second, maybe I could use it for a scene in the book! And while it might appear a bit creepy at first, I came to understand that it was a way the family and mourners honored the deceased.

Funeral biscuits were part of the ritual of a funeral in the mid-to-late 19th century in the United Kingdom and America. These were not made at home, but by a confectioner, or baker, as this was considered a sign of status. They varied in size, shape, and consistency, but carried a message of mourning, honor, and remembrance. Between two and six biscuits were bundled in wax paper, sealed with black wax, and tied with black ribbon. Sometimes, this wrapping bore a design with the usual hearts, cupids, and (gasp!) skulls. At other times, the wrapper was the death notice of the deceased, a poem, or a Bible verse.

At the height of the Victorian Age — around the same time as the U.S. Civil War — the Victorian poetry on funeral biscuit wrappings was as maudlin and overwrought as the Victorian garden cemeteries to which the dead were dispatched.

While surviving recipes are rare, those that do exist suggest a sweet similar to shortbread or a molasses cookie. The shortbread style was often pressed into a wooden mold that bore a design such as an hourglass, heart, cross, or cupid.

The ingredients chosen for these biscuits were laden with symbolism. Anise, known for its soothing properties, was often included for its calming effect on the mourners. Caraway seeds, with their slightly bitter taste, symbolized the bitterness of loss. And a touch of rosewater added a delicate floral note, evoking memories of the departed.

     

Funeral biscuits were common among British and German Americans from Virginia to Pennsylvania, and some traditions even included the practice of consuming them with wine or spirits.

Sometimes, the biscuits were delivered to mourners in advance, acting as a death announcement and invitation to the funeral, similar to the opening quote above. Some were given out when people went to the house to pay their respects. One account from Montgomery County near Philadelphia stated that mourners going from the church to the graveyard would first stop by a young woman holding a tray of biscuits, and then again at a young man inviting them to sip on spirits, ending up with a mouthful of each. Other biscuits were handed out at the viewing, to be opened and eaten at home, with the printed wrapper as a memento, or mailed to those who couldn’t attend the funeral.

Prior to the oh-so-hygienic funeral homes of today, family members awaited burial in the home–in the parlor, if the house had such a room. (Author’s Note: My late mother-in-law owned a quintessential two-story Victorian house on Cape Cod with a wrap-around porch, a borning room upstairs, and a dying room downstairs, just inside the front door.)

In the end, Victorian Mourning Biscuits remind us that food has always played a role beyond nourishment. It has the power to connect us with our past, express our emotions, and provide comfort in times of sorrow. So, next time you enjoy a biscuit, take a moment to appreciate the rich history and heartfelt sentiments that can be woven into every bite.

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For a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card, comment on the question below.

Tell us a fun or unusual fact you discovered while browsing the internet.

 

Here’s a sneak peek of my upcoming release, Caroline’s Challenge (Westward Home and Hearts Book #65)

“Next stop, Pine Ridge. Twenty minutes lay over only,” the conductor bellowed as he passed through the car.

Soon, the train began to slow, the brakes screeching in protest as Pine Ridge came into view. It was larger than Caroline had expected, a proper town rather than the cluster of rough buildings she’d imagined. A church steeple rose above the pines, and a main street lined with wooden buildings stretched to meet the horizon. In the distance, the mountains loomed with their peaks still capped with snow.

Caroline smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and collected her belongings with trembling hands as the comfortable routine of the journey came to an end and reality awaited her on the platform ahead. Jane Trahern had disembarked in North Platte, Nebraska, leaving her to face the final moment alone.

“Watch your step, ma’am,” the conductor advised, providing a wooden block for passengers to make the transition from the train to the platform. “I had the porter put your trunk near the ticket office. Enjoy your stay in Pine Ridge.”

The station was considerably smaller than Boston’s, but no less busy. Miners, cowboys, and farmers crowded the platform, calling out greetings and searching for familiar faces. Caroline scanned the crowd anxiously, looking for the face that matched the daguerreotype she held in her reticule. But as the minutes ticked by and the crowd dispersed, she saw no sign of James Murdock.

Ignoring the niggling panic running down her spine and the unexpected afternoon heat, Caroline made her way to the ticket office. The man behind the counter never looked up as his pencil scratched across the paper in front of him. Finally, she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for James Murdock. He was supposed to meet me here.”

The clerk stopped his scribbling long enough to look up. His expression shifted from annoyance to something uncomfortably close to pity. “Murdock? The mercantile owner?”

“Yes, we’ve been corresponding for some months regarding a matrimonial arrangement. ”Heat burned in her cheeks at the admission to a complete stranger.

The man cleared his throat, suddenly returning with great interest to his ledger. “Miss, perhaps you should speak with Sheriff Landers in the morning. I believe there’s been a situation with Mr. Murdock.”

Something in his tone made Caroline’s stomach lurch. As the other passengers found their parties and left, she remained on the platform watching her dream of a new life and family fade into nothingness. The weight of her decision to seek out Millie Crenshaw, to accept James Murdock’s proposal, and travel to Pine Creek pressed down on her shoulders like a millstone.

Her fingers found her cross, gripping it as if it were a lifeline, her lips moving in silent prayer. Though she had coins in her reticule, it certainly wasn’t enough for a return ticket, nor did she have any connections in Colorado.

She stepped off the platform onto the street, shading her eyes with one hand against the sun and dust motes swirling in the air. The main street of Pine Creek stretched out before her, a mixture of wooden boardwalks and false-fronted buildings that reached toward the wide Colorado sky. Women in practical dresses hurried about their errands while cowboys lounged outside the saloon, their spurs catching the late afternoon sun. Going up on her toes, she stretched her neck toward the horizon as if the movement might produce her intended groom.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in brilliant hues of purple and gold, Caroline returned to stand alone on the platform. She breathed deeply of the pine-scented air, straightened her spine as she had done so many times at St. Girard’s when facing challenging tasks. Whatever came next, she would confront it with courage and faith.

Little did she know that the Lord’s plan for her life was about to change in ways she could never have imagined.

 

 

 

Cowgirls in the Kitchen – Jo-Ann Roberts

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I descend from a family of excellent Italian cooks and bakers, and in the case of my grandparents, specifically my maternal grandfather, Luigi D’Ambrosi, prolific gardeners.

After he married my grandmother, Olivetta, a widow with four children, they set up housekeeping on Willow Street in Rensselaer, NY, just over the Hudson River from Albany. To pay the bills for their growing family (they added five more children!), he took a job at Huyuck Paper Mill. But his true passion was his garden.

The four-bedroom house was nestled into the side of a hill. It was on that hill where my grandfather worked his magic. In those dozens or more raised beds, he grew tomatoes, peppers, Italian pole beans (planted from seeds he carried from Italy), lettuce, and zucchini. Sprawling vines of watermelons, cucumbers, and cantalopes spilled down the other side of the hill, past rows of corn.

But further up on that hill, wild blueberries grew on low bushes…bushes just right for his grandchildren to pick a bucket or two for supper or for baking a Blueberry Tea Cake.

I remember this cake having blueberries bursting in every bite. But for me, the crumb topping just added that sweetness that every kid enjoyed licking off their fingers.

Since those carefree summer days, four generations of our family have enjoyed baking and eating this cake.  And the best part is that anyone can pretty much whip up this cake on a moment’s notice, as all of the ingredients (besides the berries) are pantry staples and it takes so little time to assemble. Buon Apetito!

 

Blueberry Tea Cake

Yields 9-12 servings

Ingredients:

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1 large egg
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1 3/4 cups fresh or frozen blueberries

For the crumb topping:

  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
  • Pinch of salt
  • 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into bits

Directions:

  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly oil an 8×8 baking dish or coat with nonstick spray.
  2. To make the crumb topping, combine the flour, brown sugar, cinnamon and salt in a medium bowl.
  3. Add the cold butter and toss to coat, using your fingers to work the butter into the dry ingredients until it resembles coarse crumbs; set aside.
  4. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt.
  5. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat butter and sugar on medium-high until light and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes.
  6. Beat in egg and milk until well combined.
  7. Gradually add flour mixture to the sugar mixture at low speed, beating just until incorporated.
  8. Gently fold in the blueberries.
  9. Spread the batter into the prepared baking dish.
  10. Sprinkle the crumb topping evenly over the batter.
  11. Place into oven and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden brown.
  12. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack.

 

The Legend of Uncle Sam

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Happy Independence Day! I’m going to share the history behind the term “Uncle Sam” and how it came to be a nickname for the U.S.A.

Believe it or not, Uncle Sam was not a politician, a celebrity, or anything of that nature. He was a regular businessman and worker. As a young man, Samuel joined the Revolutionary Army where his duties included slaughtering and packaging meat for the army. Interestingly enough, it is this same vocation that would later on become his fame.

A descendant of one of the oldest families in Boston, Samuel Wilson and his brother were among the pioneer settlers of the community of Troy, New York. At the young age of 25 and 28, Samuel and his brother were eager and ambitious entrepreneurs. Together their formed several successful businesses, including a brick factory, and a slaughterhouse. Because of his warmth, friendliness, and kindness, the moniker “Uncle Sam” was popularly attributed to him.

During the War of 1812, Wilson associated himself with Elbert Anderson, a government contractor. Together they shipped large quantities of meat and other commodities from Troy to the American forces stationed in various places.

The soldiers from Troy knew that the goods so marked were handled by Samuel Wilson, their Uncle Sam, and jokingly spoke of the meat as “Uncle Sam’s beef.” This expression was quickly adopted by their fellow soldiers and was used by them to designate all property belonging to the United States Government as “Uncle Sam’s.”

The association of Uncle Sam as the United States increased in the 1860’s and 1870’s when a political cartoonist, Thomas Nast, picked it up. It was Nast who gave Sam his white beard and stars-and-stripes suit.

Of course, the most famous depictions of Uncle Sam came from the WW II era. This is when Uncle Sam became the character we know today with the top hat, blue jacket, and pointed finger. This image is thanks to James Montgomery Flagg.

In September of 1961, the United States Congress officially credited Samuel Wilson as the “the progenitor of America’s national symbol of Uncle Sam.”
Samuel Wilson died in 1854 at the age of 88. He is buried next to his wife in Troy, New York, the town that calls itself the Home of Uncle Sam.

 

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A Gateway to Summer – Recollections of the Screen Door

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“If the old screen door could talk today, what do you think that door would say? All the laughter, the loving children at play. All the squeaks, slams, and knocks, the old screen door can’t say.”

After a rainy and cool Memorial Day weekend, summer has come to our little part of North Carolina. With brilliant Carolina blue skies and expected temperatures in the 90-degree range, the hum of air-conditioners in our cul-de-sac sing their tune in harmony with the crickets and katydids.

Yet there’s another summer song I recall from my growing-up years…the slam of the screen door. Growing up in the 1950s and 1960s (yes, I’m that old!) no one in our family or circle of friends had air-conditioning in our homes or cars. But every house had a screen door that turned the inside into the outside, invited the fresh air in while keeping out the mosquitoes and flies. That half-barrier told my young cousins the door is shut, and we stay inside. But it also said to our neighbors we’re home, “come on in.” The screen door rendered life airy and bearable through the long, buggy evenings of summer.

History

People had been working on wire window screening for a long. Past civilizations used fabric screens that kept out the bugs fairly well. However, they restricted air circulation and dimmed the light. Early European settlers to Boston worried about “the three great annoyances of Woolves, Rattle-snakes and Musketoes.” The first two critters could be kept out by physical barriers, the last demanded something better. Settlers discovered that cheesecloth allowed air to circulate, but it was delicate and easily torn.

During the Civil War, a Connecticut sieve company, Gilbert & Bennett worried about what to do with the screening for sieves that built up in warehouses when the company lost access to Southern markets during the war. An employee of the company came up with a new idea…coat the wire cloth with paint to prevent rust and sold it for window screens. The idea became so popular the company made wire cloth a major part of its business, and it became a major manufacturer of screens for doors and windows.

Components of a Screen Door

Comprising little more than wire mesh, a wooden frame, and a handful of hardware, a screen door creates a barrier and an invitation, and an unmistakable sound that says summer. Here are a few examples from the Sears Roebuck & Company Catalogue (1895)

   

My maternal grandparents lived on a dead-end street in Rensselaer, NY, just over the Hudson River from Albany. I spent countless summer days there, picking blackberries, trailing after my grandfather in his garden, and watching him and my grandmother play pinochle at their kitchen table in the evenings. Their screen door led straight to their kitchen. It was painted a deep forest green with rusty hardware and a black screen. That door kept out the green pollen, Catalpa pods, maple helicopters, and dandelion fluff in the spring.

While the other doors were burdened with locks and deadbolts, the screen door had only a simple catch. And if Grandpa had to lock it–what a foolish notion since any one of us could poke a hole through the screening with a finger–he would use a hook and eye. Which someone, who shall remain nameless, pulled at the door and accidentally ripped the eye right out of the wooden jamb!

But that was the screen door’s purpose…to open easily, letting in people, the wind, the sounds, and scents of summer. Even now, whenever I hear a door squeak on its hinges or hear the slap of the screen door as we go in and out, I’m transported back to that carefree time. 

We have our own screen door, except that it’s white vinyl, not wood. For us, it’s a piece of nostalgia, yet, taut and true with its modern mechanisms. It’s a boundary between inside and outside. Between present and past. Between open and closed.

If you have a memory of a screen door, I’d love for you to share with us.

 

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Run For the Roses – The Kentucky Derby

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Whether you’re a veteran racing fan or oblivious to the sport, odds are you know about the Kentucky Derby. Held annually on the first Saturday in May, it is the oldest continuous sporting event in the United States. 

From the extravagant hats and elegant ensembles to the copious amounts of betting, the Derby definitely has a brand of its own. That’s exactly what the race’s founder, Meriwether Lewis Clark, intended when he started the Derby in 1872.

Clark, the grandson of famous explorer William Clark (of Lewis and Clark fame), was first inspired to bring a horse derby to America after a visit to Europe. While there, he attended the Earl of Derby’s Epsom Derby in England. Clark then set out to replicate a similar racing scene in the states as the leader of the Louisville Jockey Club. Clark’s uncles, John and Henry Churchill, helped him secure the funding to establish the club and to build a racetrack on property the Churchills owned just south of Louisville. Around 1883, the track earned the informal name of Churchill Downs, though it was not officially named until 1928.

GARLAND OF ROSES
First established as part of the Derby celebration when they were presented to all the ladies attending a fashionable Louisville Derby party, the Garland of Roses was such a sensation, that the president of Churchill Downs, Col. Lewis Clark, adopted the rose as the race’s official flower. The rose garland, now synonymous with the Kentucky Derby, first appeared in the 1896 when winner Ben Brush received a floral arrangement of white and pink roses.
THE TWIN SPIRES
Throughout the world, the Twin Spires are a recognized landmark and have become visual symbols of Churchill Downs and its most famous race, the Kentucky Derby.

Constructed in 1895, the Twin Spires were the creation of a 24-year-old draftsman, Joseph Dominic Baldez, who was asked to draw the blueprints for Churchill Downs’ new grandstand. Originally the plans did not include the Twin Spires atop Churchill Downs’ roofline, but as the young Baldez continued work on his design, he felt the structure needed something to give it a striking appearance.
Described as towers in the original drawing, the hexagonal spires exemplify late 19th century architecture, in which symmetry and balance took precedence over function. Although Baldez designed many other structures in Louisville, the Twin Spires remain as an everlasting monument to his memory.

MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME                       

In the world of sports, there is not a more moving moment than when the horses step onto the track for the Kentucky Derby post parade and the band strikes up “My Old Kentucky Home.”
Although there is no definitive history on the playing of the Stephen Foster ballad as a Derby Day tradition, it is believed to have originated in 1921 for the 47th running of the classic. The Louisville Courier-Journal in its May 8, 1921, edition reported, “To the strains of ‘My Old Kentucky Home,’ Kentuckians gave vent their delight.  A report by the former Philadelphia Public Ledger provides evidence that 1930 may have been the first year the song was played as the horses were led to the post parade – “When the horses began to leave the paddock and the song ‘My Old Kentucky Home’ was coming from the radio, the cheering started.”

MINT JULEP

The Mint Julep has been the traditional beverage of Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby for nearly a century. Early Times Kentucky Whisky has been privileged and honored to be a part of that tradition. n 1938, Churchill Downs noticed that patrons were taking decorated water glasses home. Rather than fight the trend, the track embraced it. The following year, the julep came in the first collector cups.

 

THE FASHIONS

The Kentucky Derby is more than a horse race. It is a mood, an excitement and an atmosphere that create a culture around the track. The events and clothing tied to that culture can be traced back to 1875. Many of the seasonal festivities historically kicked off with black-tie charity balls and a Derby Day hasn’t passed at the track without a celebration of festive hats.

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If you were invited to attend the Kentucky Derby, what type of outfit and hat would you wear?

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Coming this month!

An outlaw looking for a fresh start.
A schoolteacher who might hold the key to the entire town’s salvation.
Ash “Shotgun” McCrae can never make up for all the wrong he’s done. After leaving a notorious outlaw gang, he thought he’d discovered the peaceful existence he’d been looking for when he found work laying tracks for the railroad in Rivers Bend. Yet, when trouble shows up in town, he fears he may never free himself from the burden of his past.

Schoolteacher Kate Cummings stands as the one bright light in contrast to the curious looks and behind-the-glove whispers blowing through the town. The arrival of Padraic “Patch” Rooney and his gang challenges the small-town serenity she holds dear. Still, her steadfast trust in Ash awakens the strength of courage within them all, giving rise to the collective defiance against the approaching danger.

In a deadly game of dangerous outlaws and secret schemes, Kate and Ash must decide whether they are willing to risk everything for their love, including their lives.

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